


A Door to Walk Through (KW #17 - Anal Plugs)

by nubianamy



Series: Donutverse 50 Kinky Ways [16]
Category: Glee
Genre: 50 Kinky Ways, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Birthday Spanking, Bondage and Discipline, Cock Rings, Dom/sub, Donutverse, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl celebrates Finn's seventeenth birthday with a directive, a spanking, a gift and a promise.  Carl Howell/Finn Hudson, Dom/sub, discipline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Door to Walk Through (KW #17 - Anal Plugs)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flinchflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/gifts).



> This story originated in a joke, but since the joke contains spoilers for the story, the explanation is at the end. In the meantime, enjoy Finn's seventeenth birthday present. 
> 
> This story occurs during chapter 6 of [There's Not Enough Room](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2849978/chapters/6456134) (originally chapter 21 of The Fingers of Your Fire), which is set just after episode 1.16 Home. Portions of this story will be excerpted in that work.
> 
> -amy

 

Finn received the message in the middle of American history, just a notice that there was something for him in the office. He glanced at Puck and Kurt briefly before heading to the door. Kurt was absorbed in his reading, but Puck gave him a questioning eyebrow, tapping his pencil. Finn just had to shrug. He didn't know what it was, either.

He didn't  _know,_  but he thought he might be able to  _guess._

His guess was further confirmed when he saw Angela sitting in the office. She looked right at home in the office environment, but the juxtaposition of the old familiar world of school and the still-new, heart-thumping world of Carl was almost too much for Finn's brain. He sat down next to her, smiling tentatively. "Hi."

"Hi... Finn." Her eyes danced.  _It still makes her laugh_ not _to call me sir,_  he thought, smiling back.

"Is it weird to be here?" he wanted to know.

"Kind of," she admitted in a whisper. "But it's kind of fun, too." She handed him a folded note, printed on maroon marbled paper. "This is to be read and returned to me. I'll wait."

He opened the note slowly, feeling the familiar combination of anticipation and fear. He watched her face for cues, but she just sat there, passive and calm. "Okay," he muttered, and read the handwritten lines:

_Go home directly after school. You are not to call or text anyone once you leave. You'll find your present on your bed. Bring it to my office and prepare yourself. I expect you in room six, cuffed to the table, wearing your present, by four-thirty. Don't be late._

He pulled the paper to his chest, feeling the blood leave his face and travel elsewhere in his body. "Angela," he said faintly.

"Don't tell me," she said. "It's not my business." She reached out and tucked a pen into his hand. "I have to take this back with your signature."

He signed the bottom in a daze and handed it back to Angela. She nodded her thanks and stood to go. "Finn?"

"Yes?"

"Happy birthday."

* * *

"What do you think it is?" he heard Kurt murmur to Puck behind him, in the midst of April Rhodes' solo.

"I don't know," Puck whispered back. "Could be anything."

"Would you  _shut up,_  already," Finn said through gritted teeth.

There were definite disadvantages to having his two boyfriends be out with each other at school. They always were together in Glee, for one thing, and even though they weren't holding hands or anything, everybody accepted this as normal. Which meant  _they_  got to talk to each other. And now that things were okay between the three of them, of course they would be talking about  _him._

"What could he want him to  _wear?"_  Kurt mused. "A shirt... a tie? Not a scarf. Though he'd look good in one."

"Dude, you're thinking way too tame," he heard Puck say with amusement. "Try a ball gag."

Kurt's chuckle was obliterated by the entirely too appealing image in Finn's head. Okay, it was  _Puck_  wearing the gag, not him, but that was beside the point.  _It's my fucking imagination,_  he thought, crossing his arms restlessly.  _Dammit._

"Mmm, maybe not," Puck went on under his breath. "A harness, maybe. Oh, I know..."

" _Shut... up..."_  he said again, a little louder this time. He knew he could use the Voice, and Puck would do what he wanted - probably - but it wasn't something that Finn had tried at school, not since the fight. He wasn't anxious to get back to that place with them. It seemed that something about what had gone down in California had changed things between them. It wasn't that Puck didn't listen to what he had to say. Rather, he seemed to have more of a choice about how to respond. Half the time he chuckled and went along with Finn's suggestions, but now things were more equal between them. It was almost a relief, Finn told himself firmly, not to have that power over his best friend. And Puck got plenty of guidance from Kurt and Adam, so he wasn't worried. Not really.

It was somewhat distressing how, these days, Finn was quivering and leaping to obey Carl's instructions as often as he was giving them to anyone else.  _And the Voice apparently works just fine on written paper._  He shivered.  _A harness? Jesus Christ._

"But what if it's something confusing?" Kurt was saying. "Too many buckles? Hooks in the back? No, I think we should go home with him and help him get ready."

"What -  _what?_  No!" Finn twisted around on the riser to stare, open-mouthed, at Kurt. Puck was smirking at him.

"Everything okay, Finn?" Mr. Schue's voice was mild, but  _he_ , at least, commanded some tiny degree of appropriate response from his students.

"Uh, yeah - sorry," he said, with one final glare at Kurt.  _No,_  he mouthed.

 _Oh yes,_  replied Puck innocently.

Finn could feel the ridiculous blush lurking at the collar of his shirt, ready to ambush him at any mention of certain key words.  _Boy_ and _dentist_  were at the top of the improbable list.  _Ball gag_ and _harness_  were now apparently penciled in at the bottom. He wiped the sweat off his brow. Sometimes he couldn't quite believe this had become his life.

When April's beautiful song was over, Kurt approached him from one side and took his arm, and Puck gripped his shoulder on the other. "No," Finn said firmly, or as firmly as he could while whispering. That was apparently all he could manage. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Really, guys - no thank you, but I can do this by myself."

"Really?" Puck ran his eyes up and down Finn with shameless familiarity. "You've got to be kidding. Tell me you can get to your house, shower, put on whatever he wants you to wear and make it to his office by four-thirty on the bus."

Finn closed his eyes on the stab of anxiety. "It'll be fine. I can be a few minutes late..."

"No way," Puck insisted. They walked him right out the door and toward his locker. The  _Happy 17th Birthday Finn_  balloons and streamers still festooned the hallway right above it, but Finn didn't have the energy to do anything about them. Kurt snagged one and tied it to his wrist. "Finn, whatever he's got planned for you, it's going to blow your freaking mind. Trust me, you don't want to be late for something like that. I'll give you a ride."

It made sense, since Puck was living in the apartment next door to Carl's office. Finn couldn't refute his logic - which, considering this was  _Puck,_  was saying something. He leaned in against the cool bank of lockers, resting his head on the wall, and gave a little groan.

"What is it, Finn?" asked Kurt quietly. "Don't tell me you're embarrassed."

"Yes, I'm  _embarrassed,_ " Finn muttered. He stuffed his American history book into his backpack and zipped it shut with a jerk. "I can't believe he sent me a note like  _that._  At  _school._ "

Puck grinned, crossing his arms. "Dude. I think it's all kinds of awesome. He's clearly got something planned for you. Can't you just enjoy it?"

Finn glanced at Kurt's concerned expression, then at Puck's cheeky smile. "What if I - " He swallowed. "What if I don't enjoy it? What if he asks me to do something I don't want to do?"

"Has that happened yet?"

Finn felt his agitation ratchet up a notch. "No, but... it  _could._  It could, and what if it happens  _today_ , and I - and I don't want to do whatever it is he wants me to do? And then he's going to - he'll be..." He made himself take a deep breath. "I don't want him to be disappointed."

Kurt and Puck exchanged a look. "What?" Finn protested.

"I'll meet you guys at Finn's," Puck said to Kurt, and leaned in for a quick kiss. "Maybe you can talk him down, baby. I don't think he'll listen to me."

"See you soon, sweetheart," Kurt said, smiling, and watched him walk away. Then he turned back to Finn with a calm, decisive expression. "You're  _not_  going to disappoint him. He  _loves_  you. He wouldn't do anything you didn't like."

Finn let the events of the last five weeks filter through his memory. Like he was panning for gold, certain events came sifting to the surface: Carl with the suede flogger, before they'd even exchanged words of affection. Carl in his office, that first night he'd taken him over his knee, and later, in his house, on his bed. Their weekends at the open mic in Irene's coffeehouse in Columbus, and Patrick. All the things Carl had shown him about having the courage to be in charge again, and what it really felt like to... to belong to someone.

"No," he whispered. "He hasn't done anything that I didn't want."

"Then what -?" Kurt looked completely mystified. Finn grabbed his backpack and closed his locker.

"Can we talk about this in your car?" he pleaded, looking back and forth nervously. "Because this is a little... public."

"Of course," Kurt said, not questioning Finn's logic, even though the hallway was almost empty, even though they'd had plenty of similar conversations right there next to Finn's locker, in the men's bathroom, upstairs in their attic room. Finn didn't feel particularly logical just then. He strode through the hallway, knowing he was forcing Kurt to hurry to keep up with his long legs, but far too antsy to care.

It wasn't until he had slammed the door of the Navigator and was sitting securely in the seat that he faced Kurt. He knew his cheeks were red, but this was  _Kurt,_  and he could tell him anything.

"Carl and me," he said. "You know we've done... a lot of things. He's been amazing, I can't even tell you."

"I know." Kurt held out his hand, and Finn took it. "You've shown me some of them."

"Yeah. And... there are some things we haven't done. I mean, at all. Things that you and I do, and I'd really  _like_  to do with him, but..." He sighed in frustration. "He won't."

Kurt pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Won't, ever? Or won't yet?"

"Yet, he says. I don't know. Tess told me I have to be patient, that it... that it could be  _years._ It seems like it might as well be never." Finn stared out the window at the football field, the students walking by. Everything seemed so easy around him, compared to his life. "But I don't know what he's planning today."

"You think it might be one of those things?"

"No," Finn said. "He said not until I'm eighteen. But... if it's not that, then what  _could_  it be?"

Kurt laughed. "You really think you have a sense of how many things he hasn't taught you yet? Finn, really. I remember wondering last December,  _are there more things out there, that I haven't done yet?_  And then I went to California, and Adam..." He shook his head, still smiling. "There's... a lot of things, Finn. Things we have no idea even exist. And Carl knows about  _all of them_."

"God," Finn whimpered, and his head swam at the thought. "It's too much. I can't... I'm not cut out for this, Kurt."

Kurt turned his knowing smile on him. "Oh, yes, you are. It's so clear. I knew it from the first day you went to his office and he took care of you. The change in you - it's palpable." He chuckled at Finn's blank look. "I can feel it," he clarified.

"Yeah?" Finn was still dubious. "I mean, yeah, I guess I can see how it's been good for me, but..."

"But nothing." Kurt took his hand and kissed it. "The two of you together, it's nothing short of magical. When you come home from visiting him, you're so much more comfortable, clear. More yourself. I get all of you, just the way I know you need to be. When you're getting what you need from him, then  _I_ can get what I need from  _you._  I bet Patrick gets the same thing."

Finn considered Kurt, trying to follow Kurt into that calm, rational space he was providing. It wasn't easy. "You... got that from Adam?"

Kurt considered the question carefully. "I do. I mean, I did. But it's not something we do every time, or even something I would count on. It's not quite the same as it is between Adam and Noah."

Finn could see Kurt watching his reaction to what he was saying. Finn wasn't worried. It was taking them time to get back to where he and Puck had been, but he wasn't jealous of Adam anymore, and he was pretty confident things would settle out eventually. He nodded. "And you think... you think it's good for me, what Carl and I are doing? Even though I have so many other things going on, so many people?"

"I really do," Kurt agreed. "I think you trust him. Even though it's scary. Even though it's hard to admit you might want the things he wants you to do." He put a gentle hand on Finn's knee. "And I think he would always listen to your safeword _,_  if you decided you didn't want any of them. Even if he planned it for you for your birthday. You're not going to disappoint him. Just be honest, and stay open, and listen to yourself."

Even in his agitated state, Finn could hear that Kurt was making sense. But he had to ask one more question. "Kurt... the way things are between me and Patrick. Is that what you want from me?"

Kurt hesitated, and licked his lips before answering. "I don't think that's something we need together, Finn. You've always been strong for me, given me what I needed in those moments when I was..." He laughed. "When I'm a brat. You take care of me in just the right way. I don't want you to worry about how it is between us. We've always figured it out together, and that's what I want from you."

It wasn't quite an answer to the question Finn had asked, but he thought Kurt was telling the truth. He leaned over and kissed him, gently, then more firmly, and felt a little more settled when Kurt shuddered and responded to his touch. "Okay," he said. "I think I'm ready to do... what he wants me to do."  _Whatever that might be._

Kurt turned the key in the ignition. "Good. Let's go see what he has waiting for you at your house."

* * *

Finn was almost relieved to recognize the two items resting on his pillow when he walked in the room. He opened the door a little wider to let Kurt and Puck in.

"Dude, I know what  _that's_  for." Puck reached around him to snatch the leather strap up from Finn's bed. His grin made Finn's stomach tense as he handed it to him. "What the hell? You don't need one of these."

Finn sighed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, twisting the cock ring between his fingers. "Well, you've heard how things used to be, back when I was messing around with Quinn."

"Yeah, you said, that  _things_  were over pretty quick." Puck crossed his arms, frowning. "But that's not how you are with us; not at all."

"Not with you guys," Finn agreed.

He shrugged. "What's the difference?"

Kurt moved in to stand beside Puck, one arm around his waist. "I can imagine it might have something to do with giving us what we need. When you know we're... counting on you, you last longer. Don't you think so?"

"Definitely." It had been surprising, at the beginning, that he could outlast his boys, but it had become something he could depend on. Kurt smiled at him fondly.

"And, when Carl is taking care of you, maybe you don't have to worry about that?"

It didn't sound embarrassing, the way Kurt described it, but then Kurt had never made him feel embarrassed about anything in regards to sex. Puck, on the other hand, looked all set to tease him mercilessly, but Kurt was already tugging on his arm.

"I'm thinking you don't need any help putting either of those things on. We'll wait downstairs, then drive you over to the office. And you can call later if you need a ride home, and Noah will come get you. Right?"

"Hell, yeah," Puck agreed with evident enthusiasm. Finn resisted the urge to scowl at him. The urge dissipated when Puck moved in to kiss him, getting in a good grope while he was there. "I totally would help, though."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm already going to catch some flack for letting you guys come over at all." Finn kissed him back, then welcomed Kurt into the center of their embrace. He leaned his head against Kurt's, then Puck's, steepling their foreheads together in solemn contemplation. "But whatever. It was worth it."

"Happy birthday," said Kurt, leaving a kiss on the skin behind his ear and his neck. Somehow that made him tingle and relax.

"And don't worry if you don't make it home tonight," Puck whispered. "We can totally cover for you."

 _Sleeping over at Carl's_  was a fantasy he hadn't yet asked permission to entertain, either of his mom or of Carl himself. He was really hoping tonight might be different, but he wasn't going to lie to his mom in order to get what he wanted. "Thanks."

Finn watched them depart, hand-in-hand, and Kurt closed the door behind him, leaving him alone with his thoughts, the cock ring and... the other thing.

He stared at it. He was pretty sure what it was, too, but it appeared to be made of wood, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever heard of things like this being made of wood before. When he picked it up and turned it over again in his hands, it felt heavy and solid, and smooth enough to be glass. It was very slender, about four inches long, with a gentle diamond shape and a flanged base. The wood was dark, a rich brown color with a subtle grain, and a smooth, shiny surface. He had no idea where Carl had gotten it, or even what he should do with it, exactly, but...

He swallowed. He knew what he  _wanted_  to do with it. But that wasn't something they'd done. Carl had gone so far as to say he wasn't going to do any of that with him, yet.  _But maybe this wouldn't count, if I did it myself?_ And Carl did tell him to  _wear_ the things he left for him.

He reached into his desk drawer and got out the half-full bottle of lube he'd taken from Puck's house, months ago. He was pretty sure he'd never used it himself, because when he was alone and wanting a finger in his ass, a little spit was all he'd ever desired for lubrication. But this... he might need a little more, for this. They'd never used a toy like this before, him and Puck and Kurt. He'd always figured, with three people's dicks and fingers, there were already enough appendages that they didn't need anything else.

Finn glanced at the clock, and decided he had enough time for a really quick shower before he put on his birthday gifts. Carl had never objected to him smelling like an ordinary sixteen-year-old, but he figured it was appropriate to be a little conservative about that for a special occasion. He carefully kept it as clinical and as brief as possible, but he went into the shower half-hard and came out a little more than that, enough that he knew he was going to have trouble putting on the cock ring if he didn't calm down. And the other thing, that wasn't going to calm him down any. In the end, he just stood around his room, damp, naked and shivering, until his erection began to subside.

The cock ring was first, around the base of his dick on top and underneath his balls, fastening the snap a little more tightly than was comfortable. It made him harder to put it on, but he knew from experience that it would keep him from coming before Carl said it was okay. He shivered, staring at the slender wooden toy, hoping desperately that he could count on the cock ring to do its job. Sliding something into his ass, knowing Carl had  _told_  him to put it there - that was one of the most stimulating things he could think of doing.

With a determined breath, he snapped open the top on the bottle of lube, applying some to the toy and some to one finger. The lube felt cold and wet, nothing like what he was accustomed to, and he squirmed a little as he massaged it into the pucker of his ass. It wasn't particularly erotic.

Finn propped one leg up on his desk chair, awkwardly leaning in to get a good angle, and with firm pressure slid the toy inside. The base lodged against the clenching muscle, and he resisted the urge to press it in harder. That, he was guessing, would be Carl's job. Or would it? He still had another year before he would turn eighteen. Ever since Carl had told him he wasn't going to do anything to his ass until he was of age, he'd given up on the idea of persuading him. Was this Carl's way of giving in? The idea made him a little uncomfortable.

He moved slowly, getting used to the sensation of having something inside him while he bent to pick up his jeans and put on clean socks. He hadn't expected it to stay in on its own, but it didn't appear to be moving much, and he decided not to worry about it. The heavy sensation wasn't unpleasant. He was glad for the cock ring. Before he turned off the light, he paused in the doorway under the force of a wave of gratitude for Carl, taking care of him like this.

Puck looked up from the Sports Illustrated when Finn arrived at the foot of the stairs, eyeing his crotch with interest. "You got it on?"

"Yeah." It was more anxiety-provoking than erotic, the way Puck and Kurt were watching him, but he bore it as calmly as he could. "Both of them."

Kurt was clearly fascinated, but he hung back, moving to stand beside Puck. "Does it... how does it feel?"

"Okay? I mean, kind of... weird, but..." He paused, then added in a rush, "It's a turn-on. That he's making me do it."

Puck let out a little moan, which he quickly clipped, trying to retain his composure. "Yeah," he said hoarsely, and cracked his neck. "I get that."

The expression on Kurt's face as he watched Puck's reaction was hungry, but he also kept his focus as best as he could. "Come on. We should be on the road; it's almost 4:15."

Finn winced a little as he settled down into the seat behind the driver's side, which made Puck wince in sympathy. "Whatever he does with you, man, I hope it feels good."

He smiled, looking down at his lap. "So far, everything he's done has felt good. Even the things that weren't supposed to."

It was a brief drive across town to Carl's office. Kurt didn't get out of the Navigator as he pulled into the parking lot next door. Now his expression was thoughtful. "You really can say no, Finn, if you don't want to do something."

That startled him into a laugh. "Thank you, baby. I'll keep it in mind."

 _No_  wasn't something he was accustomed to saying to Carl. Most of what he wanted to say wasn't anything even close to  _no._  He'd had a lot of  _yes_  and  _more_  and  _please_  on his lips over the past six weeks, spending time with Carl, and even if none of what had gone on had involved Carl being inside him, Finn was absolutely sure he wouldn't say no to that, in any form. He was thinking it was going to sound more like  _fuck me, sir._

Angela wasn't sitting behind the desk when he walked through the double glass doors, but Finn would be willing to bet she was there somewhere, fulfilling her duties without being noticed. He glanced around the empty lobby, peering into the hallway, but it appeared to be deserted.

"Hello?" he called. There was no reply.

Finn knew the office well by now. Room six was upstairs, next to the miraculous greenery-filled bathroom with the enormous tub. It wasn't the most elaborate of rooms, containing a wide couch and an equally wide coffee table, along with a small table for props or equipment. It was lit from above by light tubes, illuminating the room during daylight hours even on cloudy days. The couch was equipped with sturdy hooks in all corners, and Finn knew from experience that they wouldn't give an inch.

Before going upstairs, however, Finn first went back to Carl's office to find Carl's personal cuffs, which he kept in the second drawer of his desk with his other tools. Finn still felt incredibly fortunate every time he touched those worn implements. Carl had spent the better part of the last fifteen years using those tools, honing his skill. He knew Carl never used them with clients, but even from the very beginning, before they'd become... what they were, Carl had allowed him access to them.

He'd never tried to buckle the cuffs on himself before, but after a couple tries, he was able to manage it, pulling the leather straps snug with his teeth and tucking them in. They weren't lined, but Finn liked the texture of the leather against his skin. Then he climbed the stairs - maybe a little more slowly than he usually did - to room six.

There were chains attached to the couch already, with snaphooks that made it easy to fasten himself face down on the table. He shed his clothes, kneeling awkwardly on top of the hard wooden surface, and hooked first one wrist and then the other to each corner. He didn't expect to wait long.

When he heard the door behind him open, he fought the urge to turn and look, maintaining his position on his knees, his legs spread just enough that he knew Carl would be able to see the toy protruding from his ass. The thought gave him an intense tingling sensation in his lower back. He heard Carl's footsteps pause, then resume, approaching him. The gentle warmth of Carl's hand on his back made him shudder.

"That's my good boy," he murmured, and bent to kiss him just behind his ear. It was the exact spot Kurt had chosen earlier, and Finn fought to keep his breathing even.

"Thank you, sir. For... for the presents."

The warm hand stroked down his spine, waking up his skin and making his cock throb inside the restrictive pressure of the leather strap. "This is just the beginning. But before we go any further, there's something I need to address."

He walked around to the head of the table, crouching down so his face was even with Finn's. Seeing him made the whole experience that much more real. Finn was pretty sure he'd never seen him in those leather pants before, though, and the way they fit left very little to the imagination. But Carl's expression was stern, and that tore Finn's attention away from his clothes and back to his face.

"My instructions," he said. "In my note. I said you were to go home immediately after school, after which you were not to have any contact with anyone."

"Yes, sir," Finn replied quickly, "and I - I didn't have a car, and thought I might be late, so Kurt took me back to the house..." He hung his head. "I'm sorry."

Carl's hand rested on his head. The weight was comforting. "I knew it would be challenging, without a ride, to fulfill all my requirements. You know there will be consequences for that."

"Um..." He squinted up at Carl. "Are you telling me you set me up to fail, just so you could -?"

"Hush, now," said Carl. He slid his hand down to grip Finn's neck. "You're already on your knees. This won't take long."

 _Oh god oh,_  he thought, clenching his teeth in rhythm to the sudden pressure against his ass. That wasn't Carl's hand he felt, covering one butt cheek. The paddle was smooth and heavy and made a very appealing noise against his skin with each impact. Finn knew Carl wouldn't require him to be quiet up here on the second floor, where soundproofing protected each space from the others, but he was a little scared of where he might end up if he let himself go too quickly.

"You're a good boy, Finn," Carl said, efficiently working him over with short, sharp strokes. "But this was to be your present, not your own boys'. You may share it with them later, but I wanted to be the first one to show you how it will be used."

"I - I didn't let them. They saw it, but I didn't... um, let them use it for anything."

The paddle stopped. Carl set it on the table beside him. "And I can see you're wearing it." He brushed the outside of Finn's leg with the back of his hand. "How does the plug feel?"

 _Plug,_  Finn thought, with a wave of dizzy arousal.  _That's the name. I'm wearing a... a plug._ "It feels good, sir. I used a little lube to help get it in."

"That's good." He thought Carl might sound tense, too, like this whole conversation might be costing him a little bit. "I want to show you the rest of your present. Do you need a change of position? How are your knees?"

Finn crouched back, not really moving from his position but shifting into a resting pose, the toy inside pressing in different ways as his skin stretched. He watched Carl's expression change to surprise, then approval, and felt the flush of success. "Is this okay?"

"That's just right. Stay there."

Finn contemplated the framed photographs on the south wall of the room, flanked by paintings in muted tones, and made himself be as calm as possible while Carl moved around him, outside his field of vision. When he returned, he was carrying a large, polished wooden box, which he set on the table in front of Finn.

"This is for you," he said. His blue eyes flashed, from the polished lid of the box up to Finn's face. "You're going to take this home. This box, and the paddle, are yours, but they are only to be used at my direction as long as you are under my care."

"Yes, sir." Finn wished he had a free hand to touch it. The wood looked so smooth. "It's beautiful. Is that the same wood that the - um, the plug is made of?"

"Yes, and the paddle. Hickory is a traditional wood for paddles and switches of a punitive nature." He smiled at Finn. "It took me a good deal of my spare time to make these for you."

"You made this?" Finn was doubly impressed, and he hoped his expression reflected that. Carl's smile broadened.

"You're a good boy, Finn. You deserve beautiful things. And this is not a punitive gift, the paddle notwithstanding. I don't have to discipline you often. No, this training is of a different nature. Let me show you."

He lifted the lid on the box, which opened on a hinge to reveal a double-layered tray. Finn caught his breath at the contents.

"Oh," he said, hearing his voice come out small and dazed. "How many are there?"

"There are twenty-six in the set. The one you're wearing would go here, the very first and narrowest." Carl touched each plug in turn, and Finn could feel his skin flush hot and his ass contract around the plug inside him as he did. "And as you can see, they increase in diameter until they become... quite large."

The very last plug was almost distressingly wide. Finn swallowed his whimper. He could barely imagine being able to take something that large into his  _mouth,_  much less his ass. He tried not to let his fear overwhelm him. "You think I'm going to put that inside me?"

"Eventually. This is a training set of plugs, Finn. You wear each one for a specified amount of time, typically for a short time every day over a two week period, but there might be some movement back and forth between various sizes if that is needed. I will teach you how to keep them clean and how to wear them comfortably. We'll start with brief periods and increase to longer. You will  _not_  wear them overnight until I give you permission."

"Yes, sir." It was easy to say, but he couldn't keep his eyes off the last row of plugs. Each one was easily as large as an onion, with a wide flanged base. "They're... incredible. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, boy." His words were so gentle. "Just as with all things, it will take time. But I can assure you, by the time we get to the last row, you'll be able to take anything I choose to... give you."

Finn choked on the whine that lingered in his throat as he did the math.  _A year. He wants me to do this for a year. A year, with him._  It was closer to a promise than anything Carl had offered him since they'd met. He felt the tears threatening, and he tipped his gaze up to connect with Carl's.

"That's right." Carl touched his face with one hand. "I know what you want. Rest assured, my boy, you can have that. In one year, we'll close the box, and you'll be ready. For that... and so much more."

Finn could only nod his head. He thought if he tried to talk now, he would start crying and not be able to stop, and he usually was a lot further gone before he'd allow himself to do anything like that. Carl seemed to sense this. He kissed Finn sweetly, then stood, running his hand along Finn's body, touching his skin from his face, along his shoulders and down to rest on his ass again.

"I think a birthday spanking is in order, my beautiful boy. What do you think about that, before we have dinner?"

Finn thought about Kurt's worried reminder earlier.  _You can say no._  It just made him want to laugh, exactly how little he wanted to say no, here. He just felt monumentally relieved. "Yes, sir," he said gratefully. "That sounds perfect."

Carl moved the box to the floor beside the couch, then unhooked the cuffs from the table, sitting down as he assisted Finn out of his position. He pulled Finn toward him, smiling, and patted his thighs. "Right here, on my knee, boy."

Finn always felt a little ridiculous at this point, trying to fit his long frame over Carl's compactness. But he knew equally well that it never seemed ridiculous when he was the one taking  _his_  boy over his knee. It had felt so right, so good, to do this with Blaine on Wednesday. Settling his body on the couch next to Carl, his knees dangling almost to the ground - there was nothing sexual about it. It was just exactly what he needed, just as he'd known Blaine had needed it, too.

Of course, there was no denying that feeling his bare skin against the supple leather of Carl's pants was totally hot. He hoped the cock ring would do its job, but already he could feel himself getting hard. When Carl's fingers nudged against the plug in his ass, he gave an involuntary thrust, whining a little.

"That's it, my boy," Carl hummed, sounding completely satisfied with himself. "You're doing everything right. Just relax and enjoy this."

It was amazing to think that he could actually do that:  _relax._  The pain was not incidental, but the way Carl delivered each blow made it possible for him to kind of rock into each impact, taking it not defiantly, but graciously.

"So good," he gasped. Every time Carl's fingers tapped the plug, he could feel himself give in a little more, until he was completely loose and pliant in Carl's arms. Carl wasn't objecting in the least, holding him more securely with each moment, supporting him completely with his strong grip.

"Have you been counting, boy?"

"Uh -" Finn tried to worry about this, but found he was almost incapable of generating enough muscle tone to do anything at all. Carl laughed. "No? Was I supposed to?"

"It's traditional," he said, clearly amused. "I figured you'd let me know if you thought you were done."

"Not... not done," he said. The tension in his belly was coiling, increasing with each thrust, but he didn't think Carl's goal was to get him off. "I can count, if you want me to."

"Please. You're only seventeen once, after all."

Finn tried to marshal his thoughts well enough to focus on each smack. "One... two... three..." He winced, feeling the impact against his inner thigh. "Hurts more this way."

"Indeed. Consider, rather, that you're aware of each touch I give you."

"Four... f-five..." He could feel his head beginning to swim. "Uh... six...  _god._  Seven..."

Carl paused, rubbing his ass in a circular pattern, and leaned over until he was right against Finn's cheek, close enough for Finn to feel the brush of his stubble against his cheek. "Raise up a little."

Finn did so immediately, and he cried out as Carl's hand slipped under his leg to cup his cock. He hadn't realized just how hard he was, but now the relief from pressure against Carl's thigh made it all that more intense. And he'd definitely underestimated the effect of the plug inside him. Every sensation was multiplied, each swat sending jolts of pleasure through his body, straight to his cock.

"I'm going to take this off you," Carl said sweetly. "And then I'm going to keep spanking you, until we get to seventeen."

 _What happens then?_  he wanted to ask, but all he could do was nod frantically and say, "Yes, sir, thank you - oh _..."_ The snap released, and he struggled for control.

"Back on my lap; that's it." Carl's hand pressed firmly against the center of his back, forcing him down again. Finn gripped Carl's thigh, holding on, as the swats resumed. "Keep going. You're doing fine."

"Eight... nine... ten..." Now his entire body was alive with the intention not to come. He held himself as still as he could, keeping his hips jammed firmly against Carl's leg. He could hold out for his boys; there was no reason he couldn't hold out for Carl, when it was requested of him. He  _would._  "Eleven, twelve, thirteen, oh  _fuck_ , fourteen..."

"Pretty certain no new integers were added to the sequence, Finn." The next impact landed right on the plug, making him gasp and scrabble for a better hold. "Start back at thirteen."

"Thirteen," he said, not even questioning it, because he was  _so close, so close,_ he wasn't going to make it, but at this point all he could do was drive forward, "fourteen, fifteen sixteen seventeen  _oh -"_

He could feel the muscles of his ass clenching around the plug as he spilled on Carl's leather-clad thigh. He couldn't believe how  _good_  it felt, something so slim, barely more than a pinky finger inside him.  _That's Carl,_  he thought, like a revelation.  _That's Carl, inside me when I'm coming._

"You're so good," Carl murmured, beneath the sound of Finn's release, gripping his hips as Finn thrust and shuddered against his leg, "so good, my boy, my good, sweet boy..."

It seemed to go on for ages. Every time he'd thought the last tremor had hit, he'd get caught by another one. Finn crept one quivering arm around Carl's waist and the other on his arm, and he pulled himself up to a semi-sitting position and dropped his head against Carl's shoulder, panting.

"Sorry about the mess, sir," he said, the words thick as glue in his mouth. Carl chuckled, kissing him firmly.

"Leather cleans up just fine," he said. He reached down and -

" _Oh god,"_  Finn cried out, feeling the finger breach his hole, still pulsing.

"You need to break the seal before pulling it out," Carl said, as calm as anything, as though he hadn't just put a finger into Finn's ass for the first time ever. "Ready?"

"Yes..."It didn't hurt, removing something so small, but he felt the loss anyway, and when Carl turned to set the plug on the table, he turned back to Finn and took his face in his hands, kissing him thoroughly. When he was done, Finn's face was wet, but it didn't feel silly anymore.

Carl shifted him to sit on the couch beside him. He opened a little drawer in the table. Inside were a squirt bottle, a spray bottle, and a supply of soft wipes. "This is for cleaning the plugs, and the couch," he said, showing him how to wipe up the spots of come. "This one disinfects, but don't get too much on your skin or rub it in your eyes. When you're done with the disinfectant, make sure the lid is on tight. There's oil in the box, for applying to each plug after you use it, but you may wait and do it up to a few hours later without harming your tools. I'll show you how after we eat." He kissed him again, passing him a bottle of water. "How are you feeling?"

Finn concentrated on his state. "Thirsty," he said, fumbling with the cap a little. "And tired. And really, really happy."

Carl's pleased smile felt like a benediction. "I'm so glad to hear that. Maybe you'd like to lie down here for a moment while I clean up?"

"Isn't that my job?" Finn didn't object, however, and when Carl brought a thin, soft blanket out from under the table to drape over him, he felt his eyes closing.

"Not tonight, my boy. Tonight you're going to let me take care of you."

"Always," he said drowsily, and heard Carl's sigh before slipping into sleep.

* * *

He only seemed to sleep for a few moments, but the light was different when he woke, and the table was set with a tray of snacks: sliced meat, the round crispy nut crackers Finn liked best, and little elongated rice balls with colorful toppings. He sat up with interest, stretching and letting the blanket fall away, and reached out to poke the rice with a curious finger. "What's this?"

"Nigiri," Carl said. "That one's sake. The one on the end is maguro. You might like it dipped in the sauce."

Finn obligingly picked up one of the chunks of rice, dipped it in the dark sauce and put it in his mouth, chewing. "Good," he agreed. "Salty."

"I'm impressed." Carl sat beside him on the couch. "You didn't even hesitate."

He shrugged. "Puck makes weird stuff all the time, and I've got to assume it's going to taste good even if it looks like it won't. Did Angela make this?"

"No, Finn, I did." Carl shook his head, smiling with amusement. "What, do you think I'm totally incompetent? That I rely on my slave for everything?"

"Um - " Finn had no idea how to answer both without lying and without sounding completely rude, but Carl laughed and let him off the hook.

"Well, you wouldn't be wrong if you did." He helped himself to the orange nigiri. "Angela's been with me long enough, and I do rely on her more than I should. I've been trying to encourage her to take a position elsewhere, but she's declined every offer so far."

Finn thought about the conversation he'd had with Angela on Wednesday in Carl's kitchen. "Do you think she's afraid to leave?"

Carl snorted in derision. "Angela's not afraid of anything. I think she's afraid about what will happen to  _me_  without her or Davis to watch after me. You should ask her her story some time. It's not an easy one, but I imagine she'd tell you. She likes you."

He smiled at Carl. "I like her, too."

"So. You said you had something to tell me?"

Finn paused. After what Carl had just done for him, he was so relaxed, he felt like he could tell Carl just about anything and it would be okay. "It was... well, Saturday, at the coffeehouse, you know Patrick wasn't there, so I left a note with Irene, and figured I wouldn't hear from him. But you remember Wednesday, when I called you to check and make sure you were okay? I was feeling really... out of my head. Like, I couldn't concentrate on anything. It wasn't like how I get when I need, um, a spanking. It was different. I hadn't felt anything like that in a long time."

Carl nodded as he ate. "What do you think it was?"

"Well, I got an email from Patrick. He got my note on Wednesday, and sent me an email. So I went down to the coffeehouse." He took another piece of nigiri. "I talked to Irene."

"Oh?" This seemed to interest Carl. "What did she say?"

"Nothing much, just that B- Patrick had asked for more information. Clarification, I guess, about... what was going on with him. With us."

"Is that right." Carl's eyes glittered. "You're sure you know?"

"I'm sure, now," he said fervently. "I found him in the men's room, using cocaine."

Carl frowned and put a hand on Finn's leg through the blanket. "Hmmm. I imagine it wasn't the first time he'd done that."

"No." He sighed, remembering how angry and scared he'd been, seeing Blaine with the razor blade. "My mom, she's really strict about drugs. I guess it's because she's a nurse, she used to see all kinds of awful stuff. Anyway... I told him he couldn't use it anymore." He glanced up at Carl, feeling the anxiety inside. "And then I spanked him. I mean, he asked me to do it, right there."

Carl's hand tightened a little on Finn's knee. His voice dropped to a murmur. "How was that?"

"It was... it was really good. It felt like exactly what he needed." Finn made a face. "Isn't that kind of crazy? I mean, I barely know him."

"He trusts you, Finn." Carl reached over, opening the space beside him against his body, and Finn moved in closer, resting on him. They both sighed in contentment. "Touch can be powerful, right? You can be sure he'll want it again from you before too long."

"Yeah. I told him, if he felt like using the cocaine again, he should call me."

Carl considered him. "Did you speak to your mother about it?"

Finn nodded. "I knew she'd understand. But Patrick, he's not..." He stopped. "Do you think I should tell her about the drugs?"

"Well, she's a medical professional, so she might have particular advice around Patrick's drug use, if you choose to tell her about that. And she's your mother, so she would only benefit from hearing about your life. I think if you were planning long trips to Westerville, you'd want to let her know. But that's up to you, Finn. I'm not going to interfere in things outside our relationship." Carl kissed his head. "I want you to know... just set that plate down for a minute." He took Finn's hand and faced him, looking solemnly into his eyes. "I want you to hear me say this."

"Okay." Finn felt a little nervous, not like he had as he beheld the tray of plugs, but like he was already unworthy of whatever Carl was going to say.

"You've been working hard to recover from the way you and Puck were treating one another, before Christmas. You've been listening to one another, and taking it slowly, and being persistent. And this, with Patrick, you've taken it on with such courage and thoughtfulness, considering each step of the way. I want you to know I'm very proud of you."

With each phrase, Finn could feel himself melting a little more into the couch. By the middle, he was strangling on emotion. "Sir," he said, trembling.

Carl squeezed his hand. "And I also want you to know, just because  _we're_  in this particular relationship, you and me, does not imply you can't come to me and ask advice as a fellow Top.  _You're_  in charge, with Patrick, and sometimes with Kurt, and now again with Puck."

"I think you're right," Finn agreed, willing his voice not to shake. "And... thank you. For all of this."

Whatever self-control he'd maintained throughout this little speech, Carl's kiss sent Finn over the edge into shuddering, useless moans. He fastened himself to Carl's shirt, but Carl was the one who held him up, smiling into his mouth.

"Your present's not quite complete," he murmured, trailing his lips down Finn's jawline, "but I wanted to check in with you to see how you were feeling. Tired?"

It was Friday night. None of the upstairs rooms had clocks, but Finn would guess by the quality of the light filtering in from above that it wasn't long past six. "Um, no? Sir." He bit back a squeak as Carl's teeth found his neck. "I was thinking..."

"Hungry, then? Dinner's yet to come, but Angela's at the house, waiting for my word. We can hold off until you're ready before putting the steak on to grill."

"I - dinner, yeah, any time, really. But I was wondering if, maybe..." He didn't exactly know how to ask. Carl stopped finally, leaning back to gaze expectantly into Finn's face.

"What is it, Finn?"

"Well... it's my birthday, and... and I don't have anything planned tomorrow, other than the drive down to Columbus, and I told B- Patrick that we might not even be there? Like, I didn't know what you had planned." He hesitated. "l was hoping that I could - that you might let me... stay here tonight."

Carl tilted his head, his face turning solemn. "You want to sleep here."

"Well..." Finn felt himself blush. "I know you said there were things we weren't going to do yet, and I'm not expecting... anything. I'd just really like to..."

"To what?" Carl prompted softly.

Finn shrugged, looking away. "To wake up with you. I don't know, it's stupid."

"And what do you suppose your mother might say about that idea?"

"Um... Puck said he'd cover for me?"

Carl's response was unexpected: he laughed, loud and full. It didn't last long enough for Finn to stiffen or pull away. "Really, Finn? I'm a  _parent_  of a teenager. You suppose I'd let you get away with lying to Carole like that?"

"No," Finn admitted. "I was just hoping..." He let his voice trail away, staring at the empty plates on the table, and sighed. "No."

"Well, then." Carl reached into the pocket of his leather pants and handed Finn his cell phone. "Why don't you give her a call and ask her."

Finn stared at him. "What? Right now? You can't be serious."

"I've never been more serious, Finn. We're not going to establish patterns of deceit between you and your mother, not when things are going so well." He gestured expectantly. "Go on."

"I really don't think she -"

"I can make it an order, if that would help," Carl added silkily.

Finn stifled his sigh, but after the evening he'd just had, even this demand didn't feel impossible. And Carl was right, as usual. He typed in the number manually, but Carl's phone knew his mom's number.  _Maybe she'll be busy,_  he thought hopefully, but he had no such luck.

"Hello?" His mother's voice sounded cautiously inquisitive. "Carl?"

"Uh - hi, mom. It's me." Finn glanced over at Carl, who nodded encouragingly. "Carl let me use his phone."

"Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, everything's fine. I was just hoping... um. Since it's my birthday, and I'm seventeen now, and..."

"Finn," she interrupted. "Are you seriously asking me for permission to... do something with Carl?"

"No!" He avoided Carl's eyes, but felt himself gravitate into the curve of his arm, letting Carl's body support him. "Well... maybe."

"Finn, what do you suppose it  _means_  that you're turning seventeen?"

"Um... I can be tried as an adult in a court of law?"

Carl snorted over his mother's sigh. "I'm pretty certain that's still eighteen in Ohio," he whispered.

"You're already an adult, honey," his mom said. "In all the ways that matter to me. As long as you show me you're making good decisions for yourself, I'm not going to stand in your way. I'm heading over to Burt's house. Do you want me to let Kurt know you'll be staying with Carl tonight?"

"I'll text him," he said, feeling a little dizzy. "I don't think he'll be surprised, actually."

"No," she agreed. He could hear her smiling. "I'm not surprised, either. Good night, honey, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Finn handed the phone back to Carl, scrutinizing him with one eye. "Did you talk to her about this already?" he demanded.

"Maybe." Carl laughed, ducking away from Finn's accusatory shoulder-punch. "Hey, I'm the responsible one here! Of course I'm going to talk the people in charge of you before taking a step like this."

Finn tried once more, in vain, to pummel Carl before giving up and wrapping him in both his arms. It felt like his heart was beating fast enough for both of them. "I just can't believe I get to have this."

"If there's any day on which I can spoil my boy and not expect anyone to give me a hard time about it, it's his birthday," said Carl. "And it's not your birthday until tomorrow. I couldn't let you go home until then."

Finn walked beside him on the way down the stairs, carrying his hickory box and admiring the drawer that slid out from the bottom to hold the paddle. But he paused by the desk, realizing something. Whatever small things might be changing in his relationship with Carl, the public nature of it was absolutely not going to. "I don't have a ride to your house."

"Sure you do."

Finn looked over toward the door to see Puck propped against the wall, arms crossed, looking mighty smug. He jingled his keys and gave Finn a nod. Finn nodded back, feeling a little off-balance. It wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"You knew about this too?"

"Might have heard your mom talking to Burt about it." Puck smirked. "I got a couple hours before I'm babysitting at Brad's. Thought I could help. What's in the box?"

"All the evils of the world," Carl murmured, shrugging into his leather jacket. He took the box from Finn's hands while Finn put on his own coat, then handed it back to him, gesturing for them to precede him out the door. "I'll call Angela and let her know we're on our way. Puck, there's a place at the dinner table for you. See you at the house."

* * *

_If you must put me in a box, make sure it's a big box_  
 _with lots of windows and a door to walk through  
_ _and a nice high chimney_

_-Dan Bern_

**Author's Note:**

> The joke stems from the fabulously silly [John Stamos' Guide to Cuddling](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ocj_sGKFOIA). You should watch the last ten seconds of the video, because there's an outtake in which John says "snugglefist" instead of "snugglefest." The moment I heard that, the plotbunnies immediately started breeding for Finn. The name of my game became "What can I do to (realistically) get Finn to a point where he would beg to be fisted by Carl?" You can bet I'll be writing Finn's 18th birthday eventually. 
> 
> Thanks to flinchflower for not only showing me this video the first time, almost two years ago, but for helping me invent Carl's set of training plugs. 
> 
> -amy


End file.
